


Snowflake

by kawaiicastiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Awkward Dates, Awkward First Times, Bullying, Cheesy au, Depressed Castiel, First Kiss, Homophobic Language, M/M, Mary Winchester Lives, Mild Language, Popular Dean, Self Harm, attempted suicides
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-05
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-02-19 23:55:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2407565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kawaiicastiel/pseuds/kawaiicastiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel Novak is a broken teenager, suffering depression and wanting to slip into death. He's always been alone in his life, having no one around who really cared for him. Not being cared for never bothered him seeing as he sooner or later, one of his numerous suicide attempts were going to work. But that changes when he meets the new boy, Dean Winchester who is kind to him. Dean believes that Cas is somewhat like a snowflake, finding him utterly beautiful but fragile; with one wrong touch, the boy would break.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Alone. Castiel Novak has always been alone. No attention went to him. Whether it was friends(that he hadn’t had since he was in primary school) or family. He was always just there, just existing for no reason.

Castiel was diagnosed with depression when he was 14, almost 3 years ago. The nurses and therapists that were at the hospital, which he’d visited numerous times to numerous attempts and break downs, believed the bullying was part of him being who he was today: a sad and quiet teenage boy who wanted nothing more to finally drown in depression and let go. He agreed to this. But there was more to it, like how he was bullied by Crowley, and English jackass who hated Castiel for no reason. Maybe it was because Castiel looked much younger than someone who was almost 17 should. He knew Crowley had a thing for bullying those who were smaller and weaker than him. His family was another thing. They were seen as perfect. His father a priest at their local church, who loved his wife more than anything to the eyes of those around him. His sister, Anna, was a confident red head who was fairly popular and on the cheer squad. His brother Gabriel was just as confident, but a trickster really. He played pranks on everyone and never knew when to stop. People loved him though, even if he was an asshole at times. They were seen as the happiest family alive, a perfect family. The family other families aspired to be like!  But that wasn’t true. They weren’t a happy family. His father and mother didn’t get along whatsoever. In fact, if Gabriel hadn’t have been born when his parents were only seventeen, they wouldn’t be together. Well, that’s what he’d heard from them. Everyone in his family avoided each other like they had the black plague, only coming together so they could attend Church together and when they were invited to dinners. No one in the family got along.  He would have loved that family. The parents who loved each other, his older siblings, Gabriel and Anna, getting along and him living happily in that perfect world. But that was a dream, and dreams never came true.  

If they did, maybe he’d be with a boy right now: curled up in his side listening to The Smiths, and texting his girlfriend. That was another thing that he believed made him loathe himself.

 He was gay.  

A gay Catholic who was constantly reminded homosexuality was a sin by his own father, every Sunday with pictures of Jesus Christ and others in the bible watching him as he squirmed in his seat.

 

He was doing the same now, well, the squirming in his seat. He quietly at in the back of his English classroom, tapping his pencil gently on the wooden desk. He kept himself sunken into his hoodie that was tugged enough to almost covered his thumbs, trying to stay away from the others in the classroom, that had numerous posters on the wall. The usual ones, that had stupid motivational things on them. He kept his head down, staring down at the plain notebook that was on the desk as he listened closely to what his teacher talking about. Romeo and Juliet. He’d already read it, along with Shakespeares other works. He enjoyed how it was written, but not so much how their suicide was made into something beautiful. He still admired the famous writer. He wished that he would one day be just as famous. But that meant staying alive; something Castiel Novak did not see himself doing. He didn’t even expect to make it to thirty. Why would he? He’d already tried to leave this sick and sad world numerous times. One day, it was going to work, and on that day, Castiel Novak was going to be happy. His death was the only thing he had under control, the only thing he looked forward to… The only thing that was going to make him truly happy.

He fought back a sigh as his teacher went back to talking about a girl who broke his heart, a subject Castiel realised he talked about a lot. It honestly grew annoying. He wanted to learn more about Romeo and Juliet, well Shakespeare, not how a girl named Sally broke his teachers heart. That was not in his interest, and it only made his class feel like it dragged on for days. Finally, the bell did ring; Castiel fighting his urge to jump out of his chair. He rose slowly, heading towards the front of the classroom to the door. He stayed behind the group of people that shuffled slowly in front of him wishing they would hurry up instead of talking to each other. He stumbled to the side, taking a moment to catch his balance when he bumped into someone.  

 “Man, sorry, I didn’t even see you there,” a deep voice said.

With hesitation, Castiel turned his head, looking up to find the well known Dean Winchester. It was easy to say Dean Winchester was attractive, that smirk he always wore making him look like he knew everything about everything. You didn’t have to be straight or gay or whatever to know he was attractive. Even if you were blind, Castiel swore you would know. Everything about the new boy Dean Winchester was admirable.

“S’okay. I should have been paying attention to where I was going,” Castiel told him, already blaming himself for something so small.

Dean hummed an okay, nodding his head. “You’re Castiel, right?”  

 _“Why do you care?”_ Castiel wanted to ask, but instead, he nodded.

 “Yeah.”

“Dean Winchester.”

“I know.”  

That made Dean raise an eyebrow, grin spreading across his face. Oh, God, that made him sound like a stalker.

Quickly, Castiel said, “I’ve seen you around. You’re pretty popular, weird since y’know, you’re new and all… And we’re in the same-.”

Dean cut him off there.  “I know, I know. I was a bit excited to have my own stalker though,” Dean joked, before a bubbly blonde tugged on his arm; urging for him to leave. “I’ll talk to you later, Cas. Maybe you can show me around, yeah?”

And with that, Dean was gone. Leaving Castiel standing alone at the front of the classroom. He left after a second of just standing there, his teacher asking him politely to leave actually.

Cas… Castiel wasn’t sure how he felt about that nickname.

All he knew was, he was beyond embarrassed about that conversation: regretting that he had ever said anything. With a sigh, he dragged himself along the hallways; heading to where he usually at his lunch, the bathrooms. He quickly made a stop by his locker, swapping his books for the ones he need to have for his next lesson and closing his locker once they were stored in his bag, beneath his food. He debated on slamming his head into his locker, wanting to forget the conversation he had just had with Dean Winchester. That would give him more attention than he wanted. So, for now he walked down the hallway after closing his locker, bag hanging over his shoulder. He pinched himself through the thin jumper, able to feel the self inflicted cuts that covered his pale arms. It was enough for now, and better than causing a scene by trying to give himself some kind of memory loss. It was, thankfully, only a short walk to the bathrooms, Castiel heading to his usual spot which was the last stall. He locked it behind him, and then went onto doing the usual.

His usual was setting his bag down next to him and lowering the seat, which for obvious reasons was never down, and taking a seat on it. He then pulled out his book, 'The Book Thief' and his lunch, setting the sandwich in his lap and carefully unwrapping it; scared he would drop it for some reason. Once unwrapped, he opened his book; going back to the last page he was on.  This was Castiel's usual. Hiding in the bathrooms, and just wanting the school day to be over so he could go home and sleep. Sleep was the closest thing to death that he had right now, so he tried to get as much in as he could. It was a depressing way to think, but that was just how Castiel Novak was. He was not a happy person, he didn’t expect that he ever would be until he slipped away from this world, so there was no reason to expect any happy remarks to come from him, was there? 

Soon enough, the bell went, telling Castiel he was now closer to going to his bedroom and curling up under his homely blankets. Castiel shoved his book back into his bag, a light smile laying on his lips as he did so while he left the mens bathroom. If there was anything in this world that made Castiel happy, it was easily the books he read. They would be the only thing he’d truly miss when he was gone. But if his beliefs were real, he’d still have them. He zipped his bag up as he walked along the hallway, his body as close as he could be to the walls without becoming one with them. He walked slowly, knowing his teacher was always late for his class, so there was no rush; no need to try and push through the crowd. Instead, he was able to just blend into the crowd and keep his head down. He did just that until a sudden force pushed him into the wall; his head hitting it rather hard. A groan came from him as he closed his eyes, the pain shooting down his whole body. He’d had worse, but it still did pain him. Opening his eyes, he found Crowley. It was no surprise. Crowley stood close to him, his left hand sitting on Castiel’s shoulder to keep him in place. Behind him was Meg Masters, a short dark hair girl who was always with Crowley. They hated each other, but they were seen together at times.

“Ah, Clarence. I haven’t seen you in a while. Are you avoiding me?”   He didn’t say anything.

“Aw, don’t be like that. I just wanted to see how you were doing,” she hummed.

“Probably still listening to those shit bands and trying to cut himself open,” Crowley grinned, his accent thick.  
If there was anything terrifying about Crowley, it was his grin. It was utterly terrifying to Castiel. It was just… evil. Crowley, and maybe everyone, was aware of what Castiel did to himself. He did run out of long sleeved shirts sometimes, and sleeves did manage to slide up a lot. He wasn’t embarrassed about it. He did it. It’d be stupid if he felt embarrassed for something he did continuously. He didn’t say anything again. That resulted in a punch being thrown in his direction; landing just across his right cheek, a grunt coming from him as it did.

“C’mon, Castiel. I know you can use your voice,” Crowley grinned, grabbing his face to make him face him.

A group had formed around them, making Castiel more nervous than he already was. He looked down, avoiding the many eyes that surrounded him. He wanted to curl into a ball and die, he wanted to get out of here. He chewed roughly on the inside of his lip as he ignored everything that the two said, Crowley telling him to listen to a lady when she spoke. He winced when Crowley came closer to his face, practically shouting in his ear as Castiel forced himself to move his head away from Crowley.

“Say something, faggot!” Crowley had shouted.

“Hey! Leave him alone!”

Dean Winchester. God, what did he want now?  
Did he want to join in? Wait. He’d told them to leave him alone?

The attention on Castiel quickly disappeared, Crowley’s hands falling from Castiel’s body. Without thinking, Castiel stumbled out of reach and ran.

* * *

 

<p>Castiel didn’t stop running until he was out of breath, ignoring Crowley who was shouting for him to come back. Obviously, he didn’t do that. Being unfit, Castiel didn’t get far. Actually, he only made it to the corner of the block the school sat on. He breathed heavily, bending over a little to catch his breath. Why did Dean want to help? They’d spoken once. A groan came from the 17 year old boy. Thinking about it would just stress him out, and like attention: he didn’t need any of that. He needed to focus on what he was going to tell his mother. Not that he was bullied, no he’d wait for Anna to come to him and harass him about that. Maybe that he was just having one of those days. That would be enough for her. Slowly, Castiel headed down the street. He hated this town. He hated everything about it. He hated the way it smelt, the rubbish that littered the streets, the lack of nature, the people, everything. The school grounds smelt, and just about everywhere in the street, smelt like smoke; a foul stench he couldn’t stand. Each street had rubbish in it, covering the grounds and making it appear dirtier than it really was. And with the lack of nature, the dead grass he was so jealous of, the plants that were dying slowly like him, it just made it look worse. Of course, his street wasn’t like this. No, like his parents, those who lived there did their best to keep it beautiful, just like they were. Fake but stunning. His shoes scraped across the ground as he fiddled in his bag for his phone and earphones. The Smiths would take his mind off things, maybe even bring a smile to his face. He hoped they would. Once found, Castiel quickly selected a song, choosing his current favourite which was “How Soon Is Now” and turning up the volume; allowing the sweet sounds of Morrissey to soothe him.

Like he had hoped his calm and tiny smile appeared on his lips. He was absolutely in love with the band if it wasn’t obvious yet. He enjoyed slow music like so. When hospital, it was all he would do. He’d just sit in bed listening to the band and occasionally write drabbles. He liked the hospital. It was weird for him to do so since it was the place that denied him from dying. If it weren’t for his siblings caring or the school realising that he had not gone to school, he wouldn’t have been thrown into the hospital each time and they wouldn’t have been able to save his life. You would think they’d understand that he was not going try and survive, and that he was going to continuously try until he finally did succeed. He sighed to himself quietly as he moved along the pavement; his eyes glued to the ground as his mind wondered. He knew that he was going to be in trouble when he got home, and that tomorrow was going to be a living nightmare for him. Well, more than it was usually. It was without a doubt that Crowley was going to be waiting for him, and once he was he was there; he was going to be beaten. He grimaced to himself at the thought. He could already feel Crowley hands on him.</p>

 

He reached into his pocket back to his phone, turning it up more as if that would block out the fear of Crowley. He gently hummed along to Morrissey’s voice as he walked down the pathway. He wanted to be home already, curled up in his bed and ignoring all thoughts of… everything, really. He didn’t want to be thinking; he just wanted to be alone with his music. Was that so much to ask? Castiel looked up from the ground finally, his eyes now trailing over the houses he passed. He wasn’t very far from his house. Like Castiels home, these houses were quite large and very white. They looked rather homely on the outside, but he knew that behind the closed doors, they probably were not. The blue eyed boy couldn’t help but assume that like his own family, the other families with lovely houses were not as happy as they were made out to be. Maybe that was him hoping that he wasn’t the only one with an incredibly fake family. Either way, he told himself that with no regrets. If he wanted to force himself to believe that it was true, he was going to.

The walk dragged out longer than it needed to, Castiel dreading the thought of confronting his mother. He knew that she would react badly, but it was better than him having to deal with Crowley in his mind. He paused out front of his house, blue eyes staring up at the white house with a blue roof. The house looked pretty close to all the others around him, the only difference between flowers and the roof colour. The roof was a dark blue, almost black in fact, with clean cement tiles. The wood outside was white, the blue curtains that hid them all from the world matching the roof perfectly in his opinion. The flowers complimented the house just as much as the blue curtains did. They made the house seem vibrant. They were all bright colours, messed together in a clean way that his mother worked very hard for. They all looked very a like, all of them having their own patches. With hesitation, the boy walked up the brown brick path, eyes dropping down to watch his feet as he tugged out his earphones; waiting to hear his mother become upset with him. Slowly, he opened the door, wiping his feet on the mat that sat outside the house before he entered, kicking his converses off and pushing them towards the others.  

“I’m home,” he croaked, growing more nervous to face his mother.

It was only a few seconds before his mother came out, a frown on her face as he looked up. She wasn’t happy with him, at all.

"I got a call from your school. What the Hell are you doing home so early?” she snapped.

"I… I got nervous, mom. I thought that since I go a lot anyway, you wouldn’t mind if came home early once,” he mumbled, obviously nervous.

“Of course I would mind, Castiel! You have to go to school. It’s hard, I understand that, okay? You don’t get to come home early. You couldn’t even go to the office at least. We don’t need anyone thinking that you are allowed to just walk out of school, and that we do not care.”

“‘m sorry mom. I wasn’t thinking,” he whispered, his nervous fingers running through his hair.

“You never do,” she grumbled, her eyes still fixated on Castiel, “just think for once, Castiel.”

A sigh came from her, and he heard her press her lips together and then pop them. Cas was just glad that she wasn’t as angry as he expected. She seemed much more calm, and was trying to keep her voice down.

“Just… Go to your room. Study, alright?”

“Okay,” he agreed.

With that, Cas was walking up the stairs to his room. His eyes stayed low, focusing on the plain and polished steps as he adjusted his backpack. He was more than happy that his mother hadn’t reacted terribly, and had kept her calm. He wasn’t sure how would have reacted to that. He was in a disgusting mood as if it was. He closed his door behind him once he was in his room, dropping his bag by his door and slowly moving to his bed. He just wanted to sleep forever, like always. He crawled onto his bed, pulling the black covers over his body and curling up into a ball. It only took him a few minutes for him to fall asleep, escaping the world he dreaded finally.


	2. Chapter 2

A beating.

A beating was what Castiel had to look forward to today. He knew he was not going to be able to escape the fact that he was going to be attacked by Crowley, and he knew that trying to stop it from happening would be pointless. He accepted that it was going to happen, and just decided to get it over and done with. The sooner it was over, the sooner his anxiety wouldn’t be out of control. His anxiety was through the roof right now, his fingers shaking a little as he walked to school and his body jerking when a loud noise was made. Not even The Smiths were calming him down, or The Wild Life even, another band he resorted to when upset or when looking for something nice to listen to. He walked slowly along the pavement his eyes shifting around. He was extremely nervous and he was sure that everyone who drove pass him could tell.

Finally, he arrived at Hell, also known as school by others. He stared up at the building, lips pursed to the side and his eyebrows furrowed. He’d mentally prepared himself on the walk over. He was sure he could handle it. 75% sure anyway. And with Castiel’s luck, the remaining percentage would be the one that came out. With a heavy sigh, his chest rising as he glanced around for Crowley, he walked onto the school grounds. There was no Crowley in sight. But the boy with the British accent seemed to just appear out of no where. He was like a spider. You look away for a moment, and he’s suddenly there, causing fear for some. Awkwardly, Castiel moved along the grounds, well aware that there was eyes on him and that he was being watched. The others around him definitely knew that Cas was going to be beaten. They were probably going to enjoy it.  
Watching the small, lonely gay boy be beaten up was very amusing to them. Especially since Cas did nothing to stop it. He just took it. He allowed them all to walk over him. It wasn’t going to matter in the end. He was going to die soon, and then who would be laughing? People felt bad when you killed yourself. He knew these assholes would feel bad for bullying him. It obviously did not bother him if they cared or not. He wouldn’t be here to witness it. He would be happy and free; something he dreamt of.

“Castiel! Finally!” A British accent called, sending chills down Cas’ pale body.

Crowley. Well… At least it was going to be over.

It was better now then later, he guessed. It would save him from having to worry all day and sit on edge, constantly waiting for this. He could already feel his body shaking as he hesitantly turned around. Others were already watching. Castiel grabbed his left wrist, gently pushing in on the cuts as if that was going to help him, like it was going to prepare him for the pain that was to come. He pressed in roughly, watching as the British boy walked towards him like the others did. He could see Meg behind Crowley, talking to Alastair who was frankly an asshole. His brother and sister were no where to be seen. They were probably already inside, Gabriel with his friends most likely smoking shit and Anna with her friends. He looked down at the grass, hearing his abuser come closer.

“So glad to finally see you,” Crowley hummed from in front of him. “I was waiting for you, worried that you wouldn’t show up. You did run out yesterday after all.”

“Sorry,” Cas whispered.

Apologising wasn’t going to do anything though.

“What was that?” Crowley asked, his voice painfully kind in a cold way. Crowley was Castiel’s King of Hell honestly. Giving him shit and being a complete ass towards him all the time. Crowley made it his mission to make Cas feel terrible, and he did an excellent job.

“I…” The blue eyed boy couldn’t finish that sentence as a punch was thrown; hitting Cas directly in the gut. With a thump, Cas fell to his knees, his arms wrapped around his stomach. Crowley was incredibly good at fights… He couldn’t meet the others eyes as he spoke, telling the smaller male to look at him. A rough hand grabbed his jaw, jerking his face so he was looking up at him. Crowley looked amused. He had a glint in his eye, a glint of enjoyment. It was sick.  

“Winchester your pet now, Cas?” Crowley asked, his grip tightening.

“After you ran off to cry to mummy, we got in a fight y’know. It was between us, not that ass and us.”

“I… I don’t know him,” Cas told him with a stutter. “I didn’t tell him to do anything, he just did.”

“Bullshit. No one just helps anyone, especially a faggot like you,” he snapped, shoving Cas down onto his side and kicking close to his ribs, causing Cas to lose his breath for a moment.

“‘m sorry, Crowley!” Cas apologised, even though he wasn’t the one who should be.

He wanted this to be over. He just wanted to it all to be over. Crowley didn’t say anything to his apology. Instead, he continued to just kick him, hard enough for Castiel to taste blood. He closed his eyes, accepting what was happening and just waiting for it to be over. He tried to count the kicks, but all he could focus on was trying to breathe and not try cry out. That would be embarrassing he thought. Pretty stupid since being beaten on the floor, whimpering and trying not to feel so much was definitely embarrassing. It was just about impossible at this point. It felt like it was going on forever. The same voice that boomed through the halls yesterday, saying the same thing. Why did Dean care?

“Fuck sake,” Crowley sighed from above the pained boy, “fight your own battles, Castiel.”

“Crowley, c’mon. Leave him alone,” Dean Winchester yelled.

With hesitation, Castiel opened his eyes, still laying on the ground. He didn’t want to move. He just wanted to stay still until the day was over. Crowley was just going to become madder and madder, and then things were going to get worse for him. What did he do to deserve this? He hadn’t done anything wrong to anyone around him. So, why was getting this? Why was he being beaten? What did he do to deserve any of this.  He could hear the two boys faintly talking, Castiel’s ears ringing as he laid still. A pair of gentle arms sat on him, making him flinch; thinking he was going to be beaten again. Instead, he found a younger boy. He looked around 13 or 14. He had mousy brown hair, hazel eyes and a gentle look on his face. With gentle arms, the stranger helped him onto his feet. Pain shot all through his body.

“Sammy, take him to the nurse, yeah?” Deans voice asked as the ringing in his ears stopped.

“Fuck off, Winchester! This isn’t any of your concern. Let me and Cassie be,” Crowley snapped.

When Cas looked away from the younger boy, Sammy, and over to the other boys; they were close to each other. Very close to each other. They were almost touching at this point actually. Dean towered over Crowley, his eyes set on the boy with an accent. Castiel couldn’t see Crowley’s face, but he was sure it was full of anger. He would definitely be pissed off, thinking of how and when he was going to get Dean and Cas back. Oh, that was a lovely thought.. Dean’s eyes were completely locked on Crowley, a dark glint in his eyes. He couldn’t understand why the gorgeous blonde was so locked on helping him. Why wasn’t he like the others, and just leave him alone? Let him fight his own battles as Crowley had put it… Dean helping him was not going to do anything for him but bring more trouble.

Sam, he assumed that was the shorter version, smiled up when Cas turned his attention back down to the shorter male when he felt his shirt sleeve being tugged. He looked gentle until you came to his eyes… They reminded him of Deans, just with a different colour. He couldn’t remember the word he was thinking of… The best word he could think of was protective. It was weird for someone so young to give him that vibe. With a stiff nod, Cas followed the smaller boy to the nurses office; coughing a few times and tasting blood in his mouth. His body was aching so much. You would think that he would be used to this pain, but no, each time he was beaten, the pain felt very new. Staggering down the hall, Cas allowed his hand to fall onto Sam’s shoulder feeling as if he was soon going to fall over. He felt so weak right now.

“Just a little further,” Sam told him, obviously able to see that Cas was in deep pain. He nodded stiffly, forcing a smile that hurt his face while they slowly walked down the hall, a few people thankfully moving out of their way. The nurse was definitely used to Castiel coming down to her office, always after seeing Crowley. He wouldn’t admit to her who had done this, it wasn’t like their school actually cared about the students anyway.

_They went through their normal procedure. “Who did this Castiel?” “We can’t help if you don’t tell us.” “Castiel, let us help.” “Fine. But just know that we do care.” “Can you lift your sleeves? I need to check if there are bruises on your amrs.” “Why not?” “Alright Castiel.” “Nothing is broken, so you don’t have to go to the hospital or anything.” “Do you need us to ring your mother?” “Will you tell her?” “Alright… You can stay in here for a little longer if you want to. Just let me know when you leave.”_

She badged him up, cleaning out any cuts that could become infected and giving him ice packs to then leave as he liked her to. She was a nice girl in Castiel’s opinion. He was just happy she didn’t dwell on what happened. He didn’t want to talk about.  Sam didn’t seem to understand that as he hoped up on the bed next to him, his eyes glued to Cas. They didn’t say anything as their eyes met for a few moments, before Sam spoke up.

“So, are you going to explain why Crowley hates you?” Sam asked, a sad smile on his face.

“I don’t really know,” Castiel told him honestly, finding himself looking away.

“Did you do something to upset him?”

“He just doesn’t like me… What’s your name again?” he asked, desperately wanting to get off the topic.

“Oh, yeah, I never introduced myself.. I’m Sam Winchester. Dean’s younger brother, he helped with Crowley,” Sam introduced.

“Castiel. But, I guess you already know that.” Sam nodded at Castiel’s words before his brothers voice came through the nurses office, greeting the two.

He looked worse than Cas had… Blood flowed down from his nose, a stain of it over his mouth and cheek from wiping it most likely. A bruise was also already coming out over his cheekbone.

“Jesus, Dean! Are you okay?”

“You should see Crowley, Sammy,” Dean laughed, which ended with him holding his own stomach.

He felt bad that Dean was now in the nurses office as well, and that was obviously in quite a bit of pain. When Castiel looked in Deans green eyes, he couldn’t help but stare for a moment. But even though Dean was in a lot of pain, his eyes were still alive and vibrant. The nurse came back though, a loud sigh coming from her when she mumbled about having another one. He offered Dean a sad smile before glancing down.

“Sorry,” he apologised under his breathe when Dean was dragged to one of the other beds, questions already being asked.

“That’s alright, Cas. Just helpin’ out,” the blonde told him, Cas able to hear his grin.

 

* * *

 

Sam had gone only left a few minutes after they checked if Dean was really okay and if he needed to go home or not, leaving Cas and Dean alone to stay in the room. Cas was surprised that Crowley hadn’t came in. He probably decided to skip school for the day and complain about how Cas was a pussy and got someone else to do his work for him, or something along the lines of that.

“Are you alright, Cas?” Dean asked once he was all badged up, still wearing a wide grin. 

Why was he so happy? He looked like he would be in a lot of pain. He had came in with a lot of more bruises, or so Cas had seen once they nurse helped him with the pain. He hadn’t moved from where he was sitting, just like Cas. Cas fiddled with his sweater, his fingers picking at the loose strands that were probably going to fall out sooner or later. 

“Yeah,” Cas smiled, even though that was definitely not true, “are you though? You really didn’t have to help out…” 

“What was I suppose to do? Just watch?” Dean asked, a brief laugh coming from. 

“Everyone else did. Why not you?” Castiel asked, still very confused as to why Dean would want to help him. “You’ve just made an enemy of Crowley.” 

“I’m not afraid of him,” Dean told him. “He’s a pretty bad fighter.” 

“I beg to differ,” he joked. 

“You didn’t really fight back,” Dean noted. 

Castiel paused at that. He really didn’t fight back. But Cas knew well enough that it would only end with him failing miserably and making Crowley mad, thus leading to a worse beating. “I know it’d just make him angrier,” he finally said before slipping off the bed-thing, a sharp pain sending shocks through his body. Before Dean could say anything else, Cas spoke, “Well. I’m going to head off.” 

Sudden worry appeared on Deans face as he watched the dark haired boy. “Are you sure? You still look pretty sore.”

“No, I’m fine,” he lied swiftly. 

Cas didn’t say anything as he walked to the door, trying to ignore the pain with each step. 

“Cas. You know, if you need help with Crowley. I don’t mind. You shouldn’t have to put up with him being an a-.” Castiel didn’t let him finish that sentence. 

“Thank you, but I’m fine. I don’t need anyones help,” he mumbled, walking out of the infirmary, not wanting to hear another word.

 He didn’t need Dean Winchesters pity. 

 


	3. Chapter 3

With a sigh, Castiel wandered down the hall; his thoughts completely on Dean Winchester. He wanted to know why Dean cared so damn much. Dean didn’t even know who Castiel Novak was. All he would know was what rumours were going around and what other people barely knew of him. The only real gossip that went around that was true was that Castiel was gay, Catholic, the hospital visits, and had lived in this town all his life. There really wasn’t much that went around about him. He denied whatever was brought up with him. He wasn’t confronted a lot for the reason of not being well known. But, it did happen occasionally. He didn’t like dwelling on what could be going around that was focused on him. It was better not to think about it he found. When he did, he thought way too much about it, leaving him alone with the terrible thoughts that were about if people believed such things, and how much they would judge him just by that false information. It only led him to hate himself more than he did, and gave him a reason to mutilate his own body.

He hated this town.   
Why did he have to live here? It was terrible, and obviously affected him a lot. He was in and out of hospitals all the time because of the school! Any parent, or anyone for that matter, would be able to tell that the main reason for his hatred was because of the town. But, no, everyone here only worried about themselves. He guessed he did the same though. He was only thinking about himself when he thought about how terrible the town was and how his family and his own life would be much better if they didn’t live here. He knew that wasn’t the case for his family. They loved this town. Everyone here loved them, and everyone believed that they were the perfect family like his parents wanted. Everyone here got what they wanted, which just happened to be the complete opposite of what he wanted. He was just going to have to put up with it for a little longer. He’d be gone soon, and then would have zero worries about all of this. He would be happy, and everything would just be the same.

 No one was going to notice if he disappeared of not, he knew that.

Castiel’s body still ached as he walked down the hall, staggering a little but not as much as he had earlier. He walked slowly down the hall, the note he’d been given earlier that explained why he was late(not really, it just said that he’d been in the nurses office) tucked in his back pocket. He was sure by now the teachers didn’t care about the notes. They knew why he was late, and they understood. They were the only good people at this Hellhole, even if they were forced to do so. He chose to ignore that fact and let himself believe they were doing it out of the goodness of their hearts. That was an impossible task for him though, since he was terrible at lying to himself. If he was good at it, he would just make himself believe he was happy. That’s how depression worked according to those who didn’t suffer it.

 Lie, lie, lie.

Lie until you believed yourself. Tell yourself daily _‘it’s okay’, ‘I’m okay’, ‘everything will work out,’_ and more of that bullshit. It didn’t work though, no matter how much you wished it would. You were stuck with this until the pills finally worked, or you just gave up; letting yourself slip into death. That was the only time he was going to be happy. When he finally found an antidepressant that truly worked for him, the right therapist and all of that _fabulous_ shit he loved so much or when a suicide succeeded. That was the only hope Castiel Novak had in his own opinion. He trusted that opinion of course. He thought everyone else was wrong, and that was not going to change. He trusted himself more than he trusted those around him. He was right to. Everyone he knew ended up just hurting him. Look at his parents for instance. He knew them very well, and all they did was hurt him. Not physically of course, but in Castiel’s, and many others, opinion, emotional pain was definitely worse. They completely ignored Cas. He could beg for their help, tell them how broken he was and tell them everything that caused this.

But they wouldn’t do a single thing to help. It would be a matter of “things aren’t as bad as they seem’ and them telling him how he was overreacting, and that he really needed to calm down and just try to be happy. He wished they would just understand it wasn’t that easy for him. No one around him understood the damn pain he went through. It wasn’t like he was telling everyone though. He knew it would be a waste of breath and that it was just a bother for himself.

There was no point in anything.   


* * *

 

 

Class was incredibly slow for Castiel. He sat at the back as per usual, fearing that people would throw things at him like they had done previously. It took his teacher to make him swap with someone in the back corner just so it would stop. It didn’t though.

They would just throw it when the teacher had her or his back to the students. If anything, it got worse; the papers now having notes on them. They were unoriginal notes, so it really did not bother him as much you would expect it to. It was just ‘faggot’ usual.

Definitely not original.

 If they listened to the rumours that buzzed around the school and maybe incorporated more thought into their insults, it might. But, Castiel was sure that he had heard them all, even from him. Maybe it was weird to insult himself. But honestly, he didn’t think so. He was just reminding himself of how disgusting he truly was, and how that either way he was going to Hell because of his sexuality. He told himself there was no changing that, or anything about him. He was stuck like this until he was out of this world and rotting in the ground.

With a sigh, Castiel trudged down the hallways, his earphones in like they usually were. And like usual, he was listening to The Smiths. This time ‘That Joke Isn’t Funny Anymore’  played through his ears, the title having much relevance to how he currently felt. Their fag jokes and such really weren’t funny now. They were just old.

His lunch was going to be the same as others. He would sit in the very last stall of the men’s bathroom, the disabled one, and sit on the toilets cover; reading his book while listening to The Smiths. This was the glamorous life of Castiel Novak. When a hand fell down on Castiel’s wrist, shocks of pain ran through him; the cuts feeling as if they were on fire. His first thought was Crowley, guessing that he was to beaten again because Dean had interfered. It was very much the opposite though as the small framed boy turned to find Dean Winchester standing behind him, puffing a little. Castiel pulled out his ear buds deciding it would definitely be rude for him to keep his ear buds in when Dean started speaking.

“Hey, how are you doing?” He asked, sounding very puffed.

“Are you okay? You sound… exhausted,” Cas asked, completely ignoring his question.

Dean chuckled at that, shaking his head a bit. He didn’t understand what was funny.

“I’m fine, Cas. I, uh, tried to call you, but you obviously… have your ear phones in… Ah, yeah, I wanted to know if you were okay though,” he said, a nervous laugh coming from ean.

Why was he nervous? Castiel furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. He wanted to be out of the halls and in the bathroom stall.

“Oh, I’m okay. Thank you,” Cas thanked, his eyes falling to down for a moment.

“Where do you sit at lunch?” Dean asked.

“Why?” Cas asked, fingers brushing through his hair.

“I wanted to know if I could sit with you.”

Cas was taken by surprise when Dean said that. Why would he want to sit with Cas? He was already insanely popular even though he hadn’t been here for that long. He looked back up at Dean, playing with the ends of his sweater as Dean finally released it.

“I… I don’t sit in the lunch room,” Cas admitted, his voice softer than it usually was.

Dean looked confused by that statement, his head tilted ever so slightly as he looked down at the shorter male.

“Where do you sit then?”

Oh, God, this was embarrassing. It was beyond embarrassing. No word could describe how much he wanted to run and not admit that he sat in the toilets at break. But, he couldn’t think of a lie. His mind was blank as he stared at Dean, feeling incredibly nervous. He was just going to have to admit it, wasn’t he? With a gulp, Cas came to terms with the fact he was going to make Dean regret helping him.

“Bathrooms…” he mumbled, before quickly adding, “it’s away from Crowley and everyone, so he can’t really do anything to me, I guess. And I-.”

“Woah, slow down, Cas,” Dean laughed, brushing his fingers through his blonde hair. “I was just asking.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“So, can I sit with you?” 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

 “Y-you what?” Castiel asked, completely baffled by what was just asked.

Dean Winchester wanted to sit with him? He wanted to sit in an old bathroom with Castiel Novak, someone who was incredibly embarrassing and boring, instead of sitting with people who were very interesting and helped him be as loved as he was right now. Sitting out at the tables with gorgeous popular students who were incredibly interesting and would make Dean enjoy himself, make him laugh, and make him happy to put it simply. But he was asking to sit with Castiel. In a disabled bathroom stall, that Cas often sprayed to remove any smells that may be there, on the floor to eat their lunch and put up with Castiel stammering when he did try to talk.  
The choice was easy.  
The popular table, definitely. That was where everyone wanted to sit, including Castiel himself. He wondered if that table and those who sat there would make his life easier on a daily basis. They controlled the school, as everyone in real life and movies knew, and everybody loved them. Well, not really. The love was out of fear. They could ruin you in a second, so even if you didn’t like them, you acted like you did. High school was painfully confusing.. He knew that if he was in that larger group full of beauties and loveable, terrible teens he would have an easier life when it came to school. There was no way he would ever be in that group. That was where his siblings belonged, not him. Perhaps that was why they were disappointed in him. Castiel never got the courage to really tried and get into that group. Anna had done that. when she became a student at the high school, she immediately befriended those who Gabriel used. Cas was different to her. He hid away, thinking it would be best if he didn’t try. He believed that even if he had tried, it wouldn’t have gotten him far. He would have been tossed aside anyway. Gabriel and Anna really weren’t found of him. Well, maybe Gabriel was. When they did talk, Gabriel did at least talk a little unlike Anna who told him to piss off.

Dean laughed at how surprised and confused Castiel was, towering over the smaller boy. Cas knew that at this age he was rather small, but he knew he would grow. He hoped so anyway, Gabriel hadn’t. He felt stupid as he stood in front of the gorgeous blonde, chewing on the inside of his mouth as he felt his fingers shake.

“I want to sit with you, Cas,” the taller boy repeated, his voice much slower.

Even though Dean had spoken slower, Cas still didn’t quite understand it. He felt like such an idiot. He looked back up at Dean, wondering if he looked as scared and confused as he felt. He really hoped not. He was embarrassed enough as is!

“Oh, I… Why do you want to?” he asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Because I want to talk to you? You seem pretty interesting, Cas. Is that alright?” Dean asked, leaning against a wall, one corner of his mouth curling up to the sky.

God, he was attractive. No wonder he became popular so quickly. He looked like a damn Greek-God or like he belonged on a runway. He picked harder at his wrist, eyes darting around for a few moments. The pain was sharp, but it took his mind off the nerves and sick feeling that was in his stomach.

“Uh, yeah sure. If you really want to,” Cas said nervously, chewing gently on his bottom lip when he glanced up at the other from underneath dark lashes.

“Great! I just have to grab my lunch,” Dean beamed from above him, Cas able to hear the grin in his voice.

“S-sure. I’m… going to head off,” Cas nodded, forcing a brief smile that barely lasted a few seconds.

“I’ll see you then,” Dean nodded, patting his shoulder for a moment and walking away.

Castiel stayed in the hallway for a moment, unsure how he should feel about this. The only thing he really knew at this point was that he felt incredibly sick and wanted nothing more to run off. His safe place was going to be intruded. He was going to have to talk to another person instead of listening to his own music. He was going to have to try and keep himself calm and not relax. He definitely wasn’t excited for lunch now. He wanted to leave again. He knew he couldn’t though. He’d already ran out once, and he couldn’t deal with his mother becoming mad with him. No, everything was hard enough as it was. Realising he was still in the hallway, Cas quickly turned back to the direction he was going and rushed down the hall. He needed to get to the bathroom, sit down and prepare himself for lunch with Dean Winchester.  
Why did Dean want to even sit with him? Why did he think was interesting? It was bullshit! It couldn’t be true! He probably wanted something like for him to do an assignment for him, or was just trying to surprise him with a beating. Maybe he was going to give him a false sense of security and then would crush him while he was down. That had to be it. No one was nice to Cas. There was no point to be. If you wanted a punching bag, he was your man. Everyone knew that. He never went to a teacher or principal about his beatings, he never complained and he just took it. He laid on the ground, or wherever he was shoved, and took whatever was thrown at him, literally.

He knew that Dean would do the same. Why wouldn’t he? For now, Cas decided to focus on the possibility that Dean wanted him to do a piece of assessment for him. He’d done numerous pieces for others, and by now, he didn’t really mind. It was something to do, they left him alone for a while, and it took his mind off things. So, he didn’t care at this point. He kept his body pressed against the wall, awkwardly moving down as he felt himself become more and more nervous. He was not looking forward to this. He just wanted to have some peace and not have to worry so damn much. Lunch breaks were the only time he truly felt safe. He didn’t have to put an act on for anyone and he was able to relax. But now, he got to sit down with another, mostly in fear, to then do his work or be beaten.

He just wanted to be alone. The dark haired boy finally arrived to the bathroom, immediately slipping in. A sigh of relief came from him as he suddenly felt safe. It was strange for a bathroom to make someone feel safe, wasn’t it? They were smelly(well this one was not), dirty(Again, not this one) and most people did not like using the public ones. Not many people came in during lunch actually. They all stayed out with their friends. The only reason they would come in was to get out of class, or so Cas imagined. He only came here during class if he truly needed to go to the toilet or to calm himself down from a panic attack. Other than that and lunch, he didn’t come in here. He assumed everyone else was the same when it came to only coming in if they were desperate. It wasn’t that the bathroom wasn’t clean, it actually was very clean. Much cleaner than you’d expect for a public school. This town thrived on looks though so it wasn’t a surprise for anyone who lived here for a public bathroom to look as good as their own home. There was no stench, and the only sign of mess was spilt soap and paper hand towels that hadn’t been thrown in the bin. He liked that his school was clean, especially in the bathroom since this was where he spent most of his spare time at school. The other area of the school he was in a lot was the nurses office, not including classes. Pushing all thoughts aside, Castiel walked down to the very last stall, built for someone who was disabled. But no disabled men, or women, attended here so he didn’t worry about someone needing this stall. He closed the door behind him, taking a seat on the closed toilet lid with his legs up and crossed. He left the door unlocked with Dean, knowing that he would be here very soon. Once he was in the stall, Cas would jump straight the point. Ask him if he wanted a piece of assessment done, and if so, for him to give him the task sheet.

Almost as if he heard his name in Castiel’s head, the door swung open, Dean Winchester familiar voice quietly singing a song that Cas didn’t recognise. From the short few seconds of the singing he heard, Dean was an incredible singer. Sadly, the angelic sound stopped and the stall door opened. Dean wore a smile on his face, one corner of his rather pink lips curled up towards the sky as he looked down the nervous boy.  

“Hey there,” he nodded, closing the door behind him.

Dean leaned against the bathroom stalls door, still wearing his smile that gave Cas a weird feeling in his stomach. It wasn’t nerves, or fear for once he noticed. It was nothing along those lines actually. He’d never felt this feeling.

It felt…

It felt good. Cas quickly found his words when Dean opened his mouth to say another thing, not wanting this to drag on anymore than it needed to.

“Look. If you want me to do work for you, or whatever, just let me know. You don’t have to act like you like me or be kind. Just tell me what you want done, and I’ll have it done in a few days,” Cas rushed out, forcing himself to look away from the Godly male in front of him.

Deans mouth stayed opened, confusion written all over his face as he tried to understand what exactly Cas was on about. He closed his mouth after realising it was still open, eyebrows furrowed as he pressed his lips tightly together.

“I never said anything about doin’ my work, Cas,” Dean told him, voice firm.

“It’s happened before, Dean. You do not have to act like a friend to get me to d-,” he didn’t finish that sentence.

“Jesus. I don’t want you to do my work, dude,” Dean cut him off, a light chuckle coming from him as he shook his head. “I don’t need you to in fact. I just want to talk to you. And maybe I do just wanna be your friend. Like I said, you seem pretty interesting.”  

Castiel still wasn’t buying it. No one was this nice, and no one wanted to be his friend. That was just how it worked. His mind decided on Dean wanting to hurt him. That had to be it. He didn’t want to bring it up though. He thought it might anger Dean, creating him to hurt him now instead of later. His body was still sore from earlier today, so being beaten again was not something he wanted. He slumped his shoulders, realising that he had been sitting up straight and that he was incredibly tense at this point. Dean slid down the wall, wearing the lazy smile Cas had seen numerous times now. No, he wasn’t doing this to be kind. There was some kind of motive. For now, Cas was going to play along though. Give it a day or two, and Dean would crumble, unable to handle how much of a pain in the ass Castiel Novak was.

“Fine,” Cas finally sighed, forcing a gentle smile onto his face. Dean replied in a grin, saying ‘sweet’. He looked genuinely happy in Castiel’s opinion.  He was a great actor, he gave Dean that.

“So. What were you were listening to in the hall? You seemed pretty focused on it,” Dean asked, starting a conversation as he pulled out his lunch which was a pie. A weird choice. He found himself staring it, not exactly expecting Dean to pull out at least half a pie from the small brown bag.  
“Pie. Cherry to be exact. Not bad for a half off-cheap supermarket one,” Dean nodded, picking up a fork and immediately eating it. _Weird_ , Cas thought again, before going back to the question he had not answered.

“Oh, uh, The Smiths. They’re my favourite band,” he nodded, glancing at his bag quickly as he debated on eating.  
He decided on not. He was too nervous at this point. Well, not nervous. He wasn’t really sure what the feeling he felt in his stomach was. He was scared, definitely, and there was a lot of worry in him. But at the same time he was rather… content. It was a strange feeling that he had never experienced. He was experiencing a lot of weird feelings today, all because of the gorgeous blonde who sat across from him; digging at his pie with a happy expression. Again, so weird.

“Oh, yeah? I think I’ve heard a few from them. More of a classic rock fan myself, like Zeppelin and Metallica, y’know.”

Cas nodded, glad that Dean was trying more than he was with the conversation, his eyes locked on the freckled covered boy.

“I don’t think I’ve heard anything apart from what’s been on the radio.”

“Really? You’re missing out, man,” Dean grinned before asking, “what’s your favourite Smiths song?”

That was a tricky question, one that made a list of songs run through his head, all possible favourites. Lyrics rushed through his head, joined with the familiar sound of his most loved musicians, and person actually, singing alone. It was such a difficult question for him. That made him sound very obsessed with the band, not being able to pick a favourite song which would be easy with any other band. Ask him Oasis, Joy Division, The 1975, Muse, etcetera, and he could easily list them off with no second thought. But when it came to The Smiths, it was impossible. They were all his favourites; all of them equally amazing to him.  
He found himself picking at his wrist once more, feeling pressured to hurry up and answer even though Dean looked fine waiting. He still wore a grin as he ate his pie, being patient with Cas. Why was he doing that? The blonde raised an eyebrow when he realised Cas was picking at the thick sweater and at that moment, Cas figured out his song.

“Reel around the fountain,” he answered, forcing himself to pull his fingers away from the sweater, able to feel blood trickling down his skin.

“Never heard it,” Dean admitted with a shrug, swallowing some of his pie.

“I guess it’s like a love song. It’s nice. It’s, uh, hard to pick a favourite of theirs though. They’re all great to me,” he admitted.

“I could tell,” Dean teased. It wasn’t meant in a mean way, obviously, but it still managed to make Cas want to crawl into a corner and hide. He felt stupid, but it wasn’t like that was any different to how he felt daily. 

"You should, um, definitely listen to it,” Cas said lamely, feeling more stupid each second.

“I might actually. As long as you listen to some Led Zeppelin,” Dean offered.

Castiel was going to agree to that, figuring it wasn’t going to do anything. And maybe next time he saw Dean, which he expected, he could say he did listen to them, call them amazing, blah blah, and Dean would think he was a cool person; leaving him alone. But that wasn’t going to happen, he knew that. He could be hopeful though.

As he opened his mouth to say he would, Dean quickly added, “I could show you some this weekend, at my house. You can show me that song too," a confident smile on his face.

No way.

No way in Hell.

Nope, he wasn’t going to agree to that! Dean could do anything at his own house. Hell, Dean could kill him if anything! No one would notice, and there’d be no witnesses! God, no, he was not going over to Dean Winchester when he couldn’t even explain the feeling in his stomach or know how he felt about talking to him in a bathroom stall.

“Yeah, sounds great,” Cas agreed, his mouth not agreeing with what his mind was saying.

Oh, God. He was going to Dean Winchesters on the weekend.  
 _Alone._


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> //wouldn't read until you've read this chapter!!!//  
> ~   
> ~  
> So, this chapter was a bit hard to write, since I've been where Cas is. Scenes a bit inspired by how my friend reacted too. I just want to put out, I am no way trying to romanticise self harm or make it wonderful. It's really not, so please don't think I'm turning this into something pretty. I'm using personal experience for most of this. 
> 
> Also - if you guys ever wanted to follow on me on my tumblr, my username is kierwxlker (if not, it'd be kawaiicastiiel)

Dean gave Castiel his number after lunch, quickly leaving since his next class was on the other side of the school. He had left Cas in the disabled stall with a blank look on his face as he tried to figure out what exactly had just happened.

As he laid in bed on the Saturday, waiting for Deans text to say that he was out front of the house, he thought about it. He was positive he dreamed it. There was no way that Dean Winchester wanted to be friends with him. He still thought that Dean was going to hurt him or make him do something for him like any normal person would do. No one was just kind, there was always a motive behind it. That’s what he grew up believing. You couldn’t blame him for thinking like that since every person he’d grown close to had ended up hurting him, or he did their homework. He was used to it by now though, so mentally it didn’t hurt him as much. He rolled onto his side, staring at the Star Trek poster that sat in front of him. His room was full of movie posters, and things he printed offline. They helped when he had a panic attack, which he was about to have. He suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe, thoughts of what could go wrong rushing through his head. There was so many what ifs, so many ways Dean could hurt him. No one could be at his home, making it a perfect time for Dean to attack him. He could do so much to Cas if no one was at his house. Cas’ head spun and he shot up, leaning against his bed frame as his fingers jumped to his hair; gripping the strands and tugging a little as if the pain was going to help. It didn’t though. The thought, the feel of pain made him think of punches, kicks, all of it. He thought of Dean above him, throwing kicks as Cas laid helpless on the ground, begging him to stop and promising that he would do whatever work he needed done, that he’d do anything as long as he stopped. Sweat trickled down Castiel’s body as he became more anxious, his breath becoming shorter as he felt the walls close in with each thought that crossed his mind. He moved his hands from his hair quickly rolling his sleeves up as the sweater he wore became too hot for him.

He felt trapped. He found himself rocking as he sat there, now holding himself.

Had Crowley asked Dean to do this all? Did Crowley tell Dean to befriend him, allow Cas to let him in and then crush him when he was most vulnerable?

“No, no, no,” he heard himself whisper under his breathe, followed by, “stop thinking, stop Cas, stop it!”

Dean was going to hurt him wasn’t he? He and Crowley were working together just to gang up on him and crush him. Tears began to fall as he shook his head, begging his mind to stop. He could’t do this, not now. He picked at his bare wrist, hearing his breath come out heavy. He continued to shake his head, eyes wide as he stared down at his dark blue blanket. He lowered his head between his knees, stopping him from shaking his head as he watched the blanket become darker with his tears. He needed to calm down. Dean would be on his way, and it was too late for Cas to text him and make up some stupid excuse. He had no idea what he would even say. His fingers curled around the blanket, holding it tightly as he tried to calm his breathing. It was impossible. He couldn’t stop thinking of ways that Dean could hurt him, and the possibility of Dean and Crowley wanting to him together. What if they were going to embarrass him? Oh, God, there was so many ways that they could embarrass him… What if Cas started to trust Dean and told him everything? The hospital visits, his family problems, all of it? He could easily go to Crowley and tell him.

His phone buzzed next him, the ringtone louder than it needed to be. It stopped all his thoughts as ‘Dean’ appeared on the screen. He stared over at it, reading the text which said ‘Out front, Cas.’ Just as he finished reading it, he heard a honk which he assumed was Dean. Watching the phone fade back to black, he realised his breathing was slowly returning to normal and he had stopped crying. He wiped his eyes with the back of hand, taking a deep breath. He’d never calmed down from an attack so quickly. He slipped off his bed, grabbing his phone as he did and typing ‘I’ll be down in a second.’, before walking to his large dresser and slipping his feet into the converses, already wearing socks. He jogged down the indoor stairs after leaving his room, not wanting to leave Dean waiting for too long in case it annoyed him. It wasn’t like it really mattered if he did though. Either way, he was sure Dean was going to beat him up… He didn’t bother looking at himself in the mirror down stairs that was built into the wall next to the staircase, not worried about his appearance. He knew he wasn’t going to look as good as Dean either way. He groaned as he thought that. He needed to stop thinking of Dean like that. Yes, he was attractive, but there was no need for Cas to focus on it. He locked the door behind him as he left, noticing the black car out front immediately. Dean sat in there, waving with a wide grin on his face. Why was he so damn happy!? It was just Cas! His grin made him more anxious.

Watching Dean as he walked closer, he noticed the grin slowly drop. What had killed his mood? Was he already regretting this? Cas wouldn’t blame him. Maybe once Cas was by the car Dean would make up an excuse to leave, so the two did not have to hang out for a while. That would be good. Maybe Dean would give up all together on talking to him. Crowley and Dean wouldn’t be able to hurt him then!

“Gonna get in or just stand there, Cas?” Dean asked, a forced grin sitting on his face. He looked incredibly awkward as he sat in the drivers seat, leaning over so he could open the door for Cas. Realising that he had been standing by the door like a dork. Slipping into the car, he apologised under his breath. He adjusted where he sat on the hot leather before reaching for the door and closing it. It was then he realised why Dean’s mood had dropped. Reaching for the handle, he saw that his sleeves were still rolled up around his elbows. Sudden fear washed over him. With a shaky hand, he closed the door. He was going to try and act as if it hadn’t happened. Maybe Dean wouldn’t think much of it. Dean probably already knew that Cas self harmed. After all, Crowley mentioned it in front of him and it was known he wasn’t a happy child. He didn’t bother hiding how he felt. He was a sad child who would be dead soon, there was no point in it. He’d given on up that feeling. Bothering with things that was. His looks, friends, personality, all of it. He gave up on it all. Glancing down at his lap with hands sitting in them, he stared at his own cuts. There was no way Dean had missed them. Slowly, he pulled the sweater sleeves back down. He didn’t want to move too fast and have Dean question them. He prayed to God that Dean would not question it. He didn’t need that. He was scared enough about Dean betraying him, being confronted about his cuts would only make it all more nerve racking. Finally, Dean spoke up, a quiet huff coming from him. Dean was nervous!

“So, uh, what were you up to today?” the other asked lamely, fingers gliding through blonde hair.

Cas forced a smile, his blue eyes set on the tanned boy. He was going to try and at least make Dean comfortable. One of them needed to be, or this was going to more embarrassing than needed. It amazed him that he still wanted a potential threat to feel comfortable. It was rather sad actually.

“Nothing. I made a play-list of The Smiths though,” he told the other, showing him his phone, quickly checking if his wrists were really covered.

He knew that he had pulled the sleeves down, but he still worried. He couldn’t believe that he’d forgotten to fix them before leaving… He was such a fucking idiot. He made his thoughts stop there. No, he wasn’t going to start self loathing, not while he was with Dean anyway. Cas had been terrified of Dean only 10 minutes ago, wanting to throw himself out a window from thoughts of the other. But sitting across from the freckled God, he felt… safe. Well, something close to it. It was the warm feeling again. It couldn’t recognise the feeling, but he felt it. It lead him to believe that Dean wasn’t going to hurt him and if anything, he was going to protect Cas. Stupid thing to think, he knew that. But he made no attempt to stop the thoughts he was having. He felt calm, still rather uncomfortable since this was very new to him, as he stared at Dean, taking in his features while drove off down the street. Deans green eyes flickered towards Cas, meeting his for a moment before he raised his eyebrow.

“Oh, really? Is that song you were talking ‘bout it?” he asked, looking back at the road.

“Of course. And a few of my other favourites,” Cas explained, his own eyes focusing on the road as Dean drove.

Dean nodded, lost in his thoughts as he focused on the drive. Was he thinking about Cas’ cuts? The dark haired boy hoped not. He told himself mentally to stop thinking about it. It shouldn’t be a surprise honestly. He fiddled with the end of his sleeves, slowly pulling out loose threads out of habit. It was better than pinching his cuts he thought. He sat still in the warm leather seat, sinking into the cushion. He didn’t know what he was suppose to say. Did he ask what Dean had been doing earlier as well? He wanted to but the words weren’t forming in his mouth. It was already turning bad. The cuts probably bugged Dean. No one liked looking at them, not even Cas himself. Funny since even though he hated looking at them he still did it. Nothing sleeves and jeans couldn’t hide though. The drive wasn’t that long, but it sure was awkward. They sat in silence as Dean drove, humming along to the song that played.  Cas recognised none. Dean lived only about three blocks away from Cas’ house. The house was much smaller than Castiel’s. It was a two story wooden built house with a rather bad paint job. If his family lived in it, his mother would surely make him and Gabriel repaint the house. The house had a skinny cement path leading from the drive way up to two small steps. The other houses looked about the same, with more less flowers surrounding the bottom of the front house. Dean slipped out of the car, still humming the song that was last playing even though it had been turned off. He knew it fairly well then. Cas slipped out of the car, closing the door behind him quietly. He looked over the house once more, before he looked back over towards Dean. Dean’s eyes were on him as he stood by the front of the Impala. His eyes scanned down Cas’ body, making him blush a little. Why was he staring at him? “What was that song you were playing?” Cas asked, crooked smile on his mouth.

“One of my favourites by Led Zeppelin. Travelling Riverside Blues,” Dean told him, “jeez, I need to show you some classic rock. That’s almost shameful that you don’t know it, Cas.”

A laugh came from Dean, and even though he was joking Cas still felt rather embarrassed. Embarrassedly, Cas looked away from the gorgeous blonde with a weak smile on his face. A hand came down on his shoulder, Dean still chuckling a little.

“I’m kidding,” Dean smirked, “c’mon.”

Deans hand lingered on Cas’ shoulder longer than it needed to, making Cas feel both uncomfortable but a little happy. Was that feeling even possible though? He didn’t focus on it. Dean removed his hand after a few seconds, leading the two up to the wooden door that was painted a light blue. Opening the door, Dean called out, “I’m home!”

That earned a welcome back from a females voice, probably his mother. Her voice soft and warm, nothing like Cas’ own mother. He felt a sudden pang of jealousy, just from her voice.

“Excuse the mess. Do you want anything to eat?” Dean asked, looking down at the shorter male.

“I’m fine,” Cas smiled, following Dean through the lounge room and into a kitchen.

The lounge room was fairly tidy, a small TV sitting in a cabinet with DVD’s and CD’s behind glass. The coffee table held some empty glasses, with pillows all laid out on the floor as if they’d been thrown around. The couch was a plain grey colour, a recliner sitting next to it. On the wall behind the TV sat what looked like a family photo. Cas’ eyes paid attention to that mostly, picking out Dean, Sam and a couple who would be their parents. But there was another in the photo. Some guy with a beard. Maybe their uncle… He didn’t ask about it. Asking about it later when it became awkward would be a better choice he decided.

In the kitchen, the woman from the photo stood in front of the sink, humming a gentle tune. The Beatles. It wasn’t hard for the boy to miss. The kitchen was mostly white with the handles of each cupboard being a metallic black. There was numerous cooking magazines sitting around, the ones that Cas’ mother owned. They were spread out across the counter on her left, the other side with dirty dishes that she was washing. Standing awkwardly, Cas watched as Dean headed to the fridge pulling out some things.

“You better put those back and clean up your mess, De-. Oh, hi! You must be Castiel,” she started, turning around before she laid eyes on Cas.

She stunning to say the least. Her hair was the blonde that most girls strived for, hair pulled over her shoulder in a lazy bun. She didn’t look like she was wearing any make up, but even without it she looked amazing. She wore a genuine smile as she wiped her wet hands on a cloth, leaning over to offer her hand to him.

“I’m Mary,” she introduced, “if I’d known what time you were coming over, I would have made you two lunch!”

“Castiel Novak,” he introduced himself, taking her hand and gently shaking it, “that’s fine, I’m not really hungry.”

“Novak… I know that name. Your father works for the Church, right?” she asked, pulling her hand back, now sitting it and her other on the floating counter that separated them.

“Yes, he does,” he told her, slowly feeling much safer. She gave off a vibe… A warm, loving, motherly one. She was trying to be kind, it was coming naturally. Nothing looked force. Her eyes glowed with warmth, and she looked as if she cared about Cas even though she didn’t know him. Once again, Castiel felt jealous.

“Are you staying for dinner?” she asked, “you’re welcomed to.”

Cas paused, unsure if he should. It wasn’t like his parents were going to notice if he was home or not, and if anything, they’d be glad he was gone and out of their hair.

“Yeah,” Dean said, finally speaking up with his mouth full.

“That’s not your decision, Dean. And don’t talk with your mouth full of food!” The small smile stayed on the boys face, nodding a little.

“I’d, uh, love to,” he said, hoping to spend more time with Mary.

“Great!” Mary grinned, “I’ll leave you two be now.”

In all honesty, Cas would have preferred to stay down stairs with Mary, just watching her look happy and talk to her about meaningless things that didn’t interest him. All because of how kind she seemed. Once Dean had put away what he’d used to make a quick chicken sandwich, the two were walking up the staircase, Mary humming another Beatles song happily. There were more photos in the hall, some of Mary and the man alone, family photos and singular photos of Sam and Dean. Cas stopped at one, a family photo of them all laughing. It wasn’t that flattering, but they looked genuinely happy. Dean was by Mary, her arm around his shoulder and it looked like she was pulling him closer. Sam was in front of them, looking up at them as they were all much taller than him. The other man, Deans father he presumed, looked happy too. He wasn’t grinning as much as the other three, but his eyes were on them all. He was just growing more jealous of the Winchesters by each moment. There were no photos like this in Cas’ home. They were all family portraits with none of them looking really happy. They smiled, but there was nothing behind it. Just soulless eyes with forced smiles. Dean stopped in front of him, turning around to find the boy staring at it.

“Somethin’ interesting about that photo?” Dean asked, watching as Dean stared at Cas.

“Oh, nothing. I just, uh… We don’t have any family photos like this,” Cas told him truthfully.

“Well, we didn’t really mean to take it, I guess. Mum was trying to fix how I looked, Sam said something being a little bitch and we thought it was gold, obviously. It’s one of my favourites of us. Mums really into taking photos of us all, as you can probably tell,” Dean explained, leaning against the wall before he took another bite from his sandwich.

“My mums the same. She’s not all that into photos like this though. They’re really serious.”

“I think someone needs a drink,” Dean joked, before nodding his head in the direction up the stairs, “c’mon.”

Cas nodded, taking a final glance at the photo. His eyes trailed across the others, taking a liking to the ones of them all together. He couldn’t help but focus on Dean more than the others though. He didn’t know why that was. He looked great in all of them. Well, the whole family did. They were all stunning and both Sam and Dean had something of their parents in their appearance. Dean ate his sandwich up the stairs, his hand empty when they were at Deans door.

“Again, excuse the mess,” Dean said, his voice sounding nervous as he opened the door, wiping his hands on his jeans before he did.

He opened the door for Cas, standing to the side to let him walk in. He nodded a thankyou, eyes already flickering around the room. It was pretty messy. Clothes were laying around a hamper that had clothes in it, dirty clothes that needed to be washed. From where he stood, he could see ‘D.W.’ and a star carved into the wooden bed frame. He wasn’t sure why it was there, but like the picture, he decided not to ask. His bed was made neatly, tucked in perfectly with pillows prompted up, with a small couch that sat in front of it; facing the dresser near the door, where he still stood. The bed was the neatest thing in the room. There was a table in the corner opposite to his bed and by the window that was between the small gap, papers and books spread across them. Some of them seemed to be about fictional things like vampires, the rest for school. He had CD’s stacked up, some tapes actually, in the corner of the desk, leaning against a a band poster. A small TV sat on his dresser, DVD player next to it. There was a few DVD’s by it, ones that he had recently watched. They looked like Batman ones. He never placed Dean for someone who was into super-heroes. He seemed like the guy who’d have some super cool room like the popular guys in movies. Trophy’s, medals, all that. Aside from all that, there wasn’t anything else. Nonetheless, the room was still interesting Cas. It was messy with things not in order unlike his own. Even Cas’ posters were in an order. His Star Trek and Star Wars followed the order of movies, all pressed neatly together and sectioned off. His CD’s were stacked neatly, even though he only had The Smiths all off them sitting by the tiny shelves he’d built to sit on the corner of his desk. Everything was set out in a perfect order for both him and his parents. It wasn’t like that because he liked it that way. He did, but his mother also demanded it. If they were out of place and his mother came in, she’d usually put them the way she liked.

“It’s not that messy,” Cas commented, smiling.

“It was a lot worse,” Dean admitted, picking up the rest of the clothes and shoving them into the hamper. It seemed full. Dean then sat on the bed, patting next to him as if asking Cas to join him. With some hesitation, he walked towards him and sat down. It suddenly became more awkward. Dean fiddled with his own hands, looking nervous himself.

“Oh, uh, the playlist? I’m keen to hear some,” Dean asked, faint smile on his face now.

“Oh, yeah, here,” Cas nodded, handing him his phone. Dean plugged the aux into the small alarm clock that sat on his bedside table which he assumed acted like a speaker now. He passed Cas back his phone, for him to put the passcode in and to bring up the playlist. Leaning over the other so the cord didn’t stretch so much, he put it in, opening up his music folder and selecting the playlist “Morrissey’s best”. It was a lame title but he only really made it today. Soon enough, ‘ _Reel Around the Fountain_ ’ was playing. Cas relaxed as Morrissey sung, a dorky smile on his face.

_It's time the tale were told of how you took a child_   
_and you made him old_   
_It's time the tale were told of how you took a child_   
_and you made him old you made him old_   
_Reel around the fountain slap me on the patio_   
_I'll take it now_   
_Fifteen minutes with you well,_   
_I wouldn't say no_   
_oh people said that you were virtually dead_   
_and they were so wrong!_   
_Fifteen minutes with you_   
_I wouldn't say no_   
_oh people said that you were easily led_   
_and they were half-right_   
_It's time the tale were told of how you took a child_   
_and you made him old_   
_It's time the tale were told of how you took a child_   
_and you made him old you made him old_   
_Reel around the fountain_   
_slap me on the patio_   
_I'll take it now_   
_Fifteen minutes with you_   
_I wouldn't say no_   
_oh people see no worth in you_   
_oh but I do_   
_Fifteen minutes with you_   
_oh I wouldn't say no_   
_oh people see no worth in_   
_you but I do_   
_I dreamt about you last night_   
_and I fell out of bed twice_   
_you can pin and_   
_mount me like a butterfly_   
_But take me to the haven of your bed_   
_was something that you never said two lumps,_   
_please you're the bee's knees_   
_but so am I_   
_Meet me at the fountain shove me on the patio_   
_I'll take it slowly_   
_Fifteen minutes with you_   
_oh I wouldn't say no_   
_people see no worth in you_   
_oh but I do_

 Cas had hummed most of it, sudden wash of happiness flowing over him as the song ended. It stayed with him as he peeled his eyes away from the floor, which he had been staring at the whole time as he hummed along to the words. Looking up, Dean’s eyes were on him. They were sad. The happiness was gone as he became worried.

“Did you like it?” Cas asked, forcing a smile.  

Dean nodded, “yeah, it’s nice.”

Cas nodded in agreement as it fell silent once more, the next song which was _Hand in Glove_ playing in the background. He found himself fiddling with the ends of his sweater.

“Hey, uh, who was that guy in the photo of you and your family? In the lounge room… I don’t mean to pry or anything,” Cas asked, wanting the silence to stop. It was far too awkward and even though Morrissey was singing, it still made him uncomfortable.

“With the truckers hat? That’s Bobby. Bobby Singer,” Dean told him, shuffling back against the bed so his back was now against the wall. “He’s like my Uncle, practically family,” he added, “he used to look after me and Sammy when my parents went out. They were into adventurous stuff, so they went out occasionally, hiking, camping, all of that.”

“That’s cool of him to do that." 

“He didn’t really have anything else to do, and he cares a lot for the family. We don’t have any blood relationship though. Jut a great friend of the family,” Dean smiled, Cas now hesitantly moving back to join him against the wall.

“Have you got anyone like that?” Dean asked.

“Uh, no, not really. My family don’t really talk to anyone unless they have to,” Cas told him, truthfully, running his fingers through his hair. “They barely talk to me unless they want something honestly.”   

Cas wasn’t sure why he was telling the boy this. It wasn’t like he really cared or wanted to know about this, was it? And what if he did tell everyone like he'd been worrying about? Why did he suddenly feel safe sitting next to Dean? Only 30 minutes ago, he'd been in the middle of a panic attack focused around the grogeous freckled boy...

 “Why? That’s terrible.”

That took Cas by surprise, and it showed as he raised his eyebrows a little.

“They… They’re just not loving people. They don’t really care about anyone but themselves. I’m sure Gabriel and Anna feel the same. Like they’re only really wanted when they’re needed for something.”  

“Is that why you hurt yourself?”

Cas completely froze. Was he really bringing this up now? Fuck, he was going to have another attack. He rubbed the back off his neck, avoiding Deans eyes as he tried to figure out what he was meant to say.

“I uh, didn’t mean for you to see that,” Cas whispered, fidgeting with his fingers. He was already having troubles with his breathing.

“Cas, calm down, I’m not judging you, alright?” Dean told him, noticing that he was alright.

“It is judge worthy though. It’s stupid and disgusting,” Cas murmured, feeling his throat tighten as he spoke. He couldn’t cry, no that was too embarrassing.

“You’re right. It is disgusting. It’s disgusting you feel the need to hurt yourself. You shouldn’t do that to yourself, alright? It won’t do anything.”   Deans voice was firm now, but in a way it was gentle. It wasn’t scolding, and it wasn’t harsh like he had thought it would be. He was being gentle about it even with his voice being noticeably lower and firmer.

“It’s not that easy. You can’t just… Just not to do it, alright?” Cas told him, feeling his stomach do backflips as he refused to look at Dean who was now closer to him.

“I know that, Cas. I just don’t undertand why you would want to. Yeah, things suck, but-.”

Cas stopped him there. “You’re right. Everything does suck, okay? It sucks a lot. It sucks being beaten up because I like guys, it sucks that my parents don’t care about me, the ‘it’ll be okay’ talks suck, they all suck, alright? I don’t know why I do it, it helps for a bit but it makes things worse, I get that. I don’t expect you to understand, but it’s hard!”

Cas snapped, a few tears falling down his cheek. God, he was crying. This wasn’t going right, fuck. He wasn't meant to tell Dean things things. He wanted to take it all back immediately, but time was harsh and he couldn't go back and put the words back in his mouth. He was going to tell everyone that Cas had said that, all of it. Looking at his hands that were around his legs, he found himself shaking. He wanted to leave.

An arm slid around his shoulders, pulling him against Deans side. His eyes widened from the sudden touch, a hand squeezing his shoulder as he stiffened.

“Look at me, Castiel,” Dean demanded, his voice soft though.

“Dean, just stop,” Cas murmured, "please."

“Castiel. Look at me,” he repeated, his arm still tightly around him, "come on.”

With hesitation, Cas looked up at him, not wanting to meet his eyes though. It took him a moment, but he did. He didn’t look disgusted or mad. If anything, his face was full of worry. Why the Hell did he care? Dean didn’t even know him. All he knew was what he learned from talking to him a few times in the bathroom stall or between classes. And even then, Castiel had not said much.

“I can help with Crowley. And I will. You don’t deserve to beaten up or made to feel like this, okay? But you have to promise one thing. If you feel like hurting yourself, just call me. You’ve got my number and I don’t care what the time. Call me.”

Tears were welling in Cas’ eyes, slipping down his cheeks before he raised his clothed hand and wiped them away, turning his head down.

“Why do you care? You don’t even know me, Dean. You shouldn’t care, you should just shrug it off or give me shit for it,” Cas murmured, voice breaking.

“I just care, Cas. No one should go through that, and it’s terrible you haven’t had anyone care about it. And you’re right, I don’t know you, but I want to.”

“I don’t know why. Everyone wants to talk to you, so why are you wasting your time on me?” “Because it’s a not waste. Just let me get to know you and promise me you’ll call for now on?”

“Fine.”

“Look at me and say it, Cas,” Dean murmured, giving his shoulder a squeeze. With furrowed eyes and tear stained cheeks, he looked back up at the blonde male.

“Fine, Dean. I won’t… do anything without calling you.” A small smile came on Deans face and he squeezed Cas’ shoulder again, before drawing his eyes away from Cas.

“Thank you.”

Cas nodded a little, unsure if making that promise was going to be a mistake. Did Dean actually care or was this just a way of hurting him? He had no idea what he was in for now. Did this make them friends now? He couldn’t see why Dean wanted to help him so badly, or why he was so interesting. It was frustrating trying to figure out why this was all happening to him. Having someone care for him was so weird now. He never expected anyone to actually care for him, or want something good, let alone someone like Dean Winchester. He would be lying if he said that he didn’t like the idea of being cared for though. Having someone there to look after you, to want you to be safe, to feel like you mean something… He wanted that, he did. But was this too good to be true? He didn’t think he deserved any of this, and although he was nervous about what was going to come out of it, he decided to see that going along with it would work for now.

**Author's Note:**

> Snowflake is finally back, ah. It's been a while, but I finally got the inspiration to restart this. I apologise to those who did enjoy this!


End file.
